Battle Scars
by snape's-american-goddess
Summary: Angsty Snape&student romance. She's the only Slytherin who's bad at Potions, and he's the only one who can help her...in more than one way.
1. D for Dreadful

Chapter 1  
D for Dreadful  
  
Most people really don't understand. They don't know the life of a tortured soul, they don't know the thoughts. They don't know how it is to be shattered, how it is to be torn open, requiring only distraction to pacify the pain. They don't feel the numbness inside, as I do.  
  
Distraction is so simple to get, yet many are so picky when choosing it. They want to do certain things, even if there are limits set. I was lucky; I craved a simple distraction: Potions.  
  
Samantha Fox, a sixth year Slytherin, sat in her common room with her friends Jillian McNamara and Monica Flynn.  
  
"Potions next?" she asked.  
  
"You know it." Monica said, turning a page in her magazine.  
  
Samantha made a frustrated noise. "I'm the only Slytherin that sucks at Potions!"  
  
"No you're – well, yeah, I guess you are." Said Jillian quietly.  
  
"If I don't pass – and I don't think I'm going to – I won't get into his advanced course, and that means I can't work as a Healer!" She exclaimed dramatically.  
  
"Don't worry. We're Slytherins, he'll pass us anyways." Monica assured her. She glared at her friend.  
  
"I don't like it when you talk like that. Everyone in Hogwarts should have a fair advantage."  
  
Monica threw her magazine across the room and fell back on the pillows. "Well if you don't like it, then chuck your Slytherin robes in the bin and go room with those loser Gryfinndors!" She snapped.  
  
"Why can't you two ever be nice to each other? Your best friends, for Christ's sake!" Jillian cried.  
  
"Because!" Both Samantha and Monica snapped, then they sneered at each other.  
  
"I'm going to Potions." Samantha said sharply, hastily picked up her bag and exited to room.  
  
"Good riddance." Monica muttered, but Samantha turned a deaf ear.  
  
Samantha was the first to arrive Potion's classroom. Snape was reading a piece of parchment at his desk, his head bowed. If he noticed her presence he did not acknowledge her. Since he didn't ask her to sit as he usually asked of students, she remained standing until the rest of the class arrived.  
  
As I looked over the progress report for the Slytherin sixth years, I noticed a student walk in to the dungeons. I did not greet her in any way, shape, or form; I was far too busy with her grades.  
  
She had received 'P's on her last five assignments. To any other house that might be quietly attended to, but to Slytherin, it was shame. Pure and utter shame. It stung me to look at it. Nobody in my house failed. Ever.  
  
Three minutes later, I noticed that that she was still standing there. I looked up out of the corner of my eye. Her light brown hair was held in a tight bun on the top of her head, her indigo/green/gold eyes swiveling around, hardly focusing. I was surprised at her manners. She had not taken a seat because I had not asked her to.  
  
But it was much too late to take a liking to her now. Now I proceeded to break her spirit, to crush her dreams into a million pieces, to remove all her hobbies and pleasures if that's what it took for her to succeed.  
  
And the most terrible part was, I knew that I was going to enjoy it.  
  
"You may sit down, Miss Fox." Snape finally said. Samantha exhaled softly and went to her normal seat, across from his desk near the front. She pondered a long chain of idle, yet irrepressible thoughts until all of the students had entered the cold, dripping dungeons.  
  
The lesson began. Samantha caught herself staring at the back of Snape's head as he wrote on the board. They were making an Awakening Brew, she had heard that.  
  
"It is the most difficult potion we will be making all year, as it goes hand in hand with the Draught of Living Death. It will awaken the drinker from anything that has happened to him, all except death."  
  
She listened for a moment and then began to stare into space. She didn't know how long she had been spacing when she heard his sharp call.  
  
"Miss Fox!" he snapped. She jerked back to her senses to see his menacing face turned towards her. "Why are tea leaves used in the Brew?"  
  
She thought quickly. "To enhance the flavor?" she guessed.  
  
"Hardly." He sneered. "The stimulants in green tea leaves motivate the drinker. Now, can you tell me why you must use rain water instead of distilled water?"  
  
"Er..."  
  
"Wrong again, I'm afraid." He drawled coldly. "The minerals in the distilled water will counteract the dragon claw and make the potion ineffective."  
  
"Ah." She whispered. She glared at him. "I'll remember that."  
  
He sneered again, turned away, and began pacing the room. Samantha filled her cauldron with the rain water and gathered her ingredients. She made sure the flame was appropriately burning and began to stir in the shredded ivy. To her alarm, Snape stopped pacing and came over to watch her.  
  
"You're doing it wrong." He pointed out vindictively. She looked up angrily.  
  
"Well then why don't you tell me how to do it?" she asked acidly.  
  
"I did. You weren't listening." He said nastily.  
  
"Oh, wasn't I?" She narrowed her eyes at him.  
  
"Silence!" He hissed. "That tongue of yours will get you in bigger trouble than you know."  
  
"Oooh, that'll a tragedy!" She whispered viciously. He tutted with contempt.  
  
Enemy - show me what you wanna be  
  
I can handle anything  
  
Even if i can't handle you  
  
Readily - either way it better be  
  
Don't you fuckin' pity me  
  
Get up, get off...  
  
What the hell am i sayin'?  
  
I don't know about malevolent  
  
Sure as hell decadent  
  
I want somebody to step up, step off  
  
Walls! Let me fall! Fuck you all!  
  
Get a grip, don't let me slip 'til i drop the ball  
  
I - i want it all!  
  
Fuck this shit, i'm sick of it  
  
You're goin' down, this is a war!  
  
Who the fuck am I to criticize your twisted  
  
State of mind?  
  
You're leavin' me suspect - I'm leavin' you grotesque  
  
Feels like a burn from which you never learn  
  
Cause and effect, you jealous ass  
  
Press your face against the glass - suffer!  
  
I - i want it all!  
  
Fuck this shit, I'm sick of it  
  
You're goin' down, this is a war!  
  
I've just begun  
  
It's about that time  
  
Gotta get mine  
  
You can't kill me  
  
Cuz i'm already  
  
Inside you  
  
Sick  
  
-Slipknot -  
  
"Please stay after class, Fox." He said quietly. She began to grind the dragon claw even harder, even though it was already an extremely fine powder.  
  
By the time the potion was finished, it was not the mercury silver that it was supposed to be, but a strange purple. Samantha sighed, bottled it, and brought it up for a grade. She was the last one done. Most people were already packing their things and talking quietly.  
  
He took the bottle wordlessly, uncorked it, sniffed it, winced, corked it again, rolled it around in his hands, set it down, and looked up at her.  
  
"You added snail shell instead of kneazle hairs and you didn't let it simmer long enough. Congratulations, you have just earned your first 'D'." he said dispassionately.  
  
"A 'D'?" she asked. Her mouth fell open.  
  
"Yes. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like you to go sit in your seat and stay there after the bell." He snarled. Her nostrils flared, but she went and sat down all the same.  
  
The bell rang and she remained seated, trying not to squirm. Finally, he looked up at her. She cleared her face of all expression. He rose from his chair and eloquently walked over. She straightened as he sat in the stool across from her.  
  
"Your potions work is shameful, both you and I know that, Miss Fox." He started.  
  
"Yes," she growled, looking up at him. "But is it because I do not realize my potentiality, or because I have an incompetent instructor?"  
  
His lips became pursed. "I will choose to ignore that little comment, Miss Fox, but in the future you may not be so fortunate."  
  
"I see." She crossed her arms and sat back in her chair.  
  
"The reason I asked you to remain after class is a beneficial one. You are in Slytherin, and, under my authority, no Slytherin shall fail in Potions. It is simply disgraceful. So I have decided to be abnormally generous and offer you Remedial Potions." He explained. She frowned.  
  
"Come again?"  
  
"Remedial Potions, Miss Fox. Tutoring. Don't tell me you need Remedial sessions in the English language as well?" He asked coldly. She stiffened.  
  
"I am perfectly fluent in English, thank you very much." She snapped. "And I would be...grateful for extra help. Thank you, Professor." She said with much difficulty.  
  
"Be at my office on Thursday at eight o' clock. Be punctual, Miss Fox, because if you are a minute late I will not wait for you. My spare time is extremely rare and valuable, and if I had a choice, I would not be spending it with you." He said icily. This remark stung Samantha a little, but she brushed it off.  
  
"I'll be there." She muttered and excused herself. She swung her bag over her shoulder and silently walked out, holding herself high. She fumed with rage. Well, if she had a choice, she wouldn't want to spend time with him either!  
  
Remedial Potions...she thought.  
  
"Bullshit!" 


	2. Thursday, Sunday, D Day

Chapter 2  
Thursday, Sunday, D - Day  
  
"What time is it?" Samantha asked Jillian as they finished eating their blackberry pie. She glanced at her wristwatch.  
  
"Seven fifty eight. Why?" she asked.  
  
"Oh crap! I have to go!" Samantha jumped up, grabbed her bag, and fled the Great Hall without so much as an explanation. She ran through the entrance hall and down to the dungeons, taking the steps two at a time.  
  
By the time she got to Snape's office she was panting. She knocked on the door. To her relief, she got an answer.  
  
"Enter." He called. She turned the doorknob and went in. "It is eight and one minute, you do realize that?"  
  
"Sorry I'm late." She muttered, still standing by the door. She had finally caught her breath.  
  
"Sit." He ordered. She sat. He looked into the depths of her pretty indigo eyes with his shiny black ones. She got out a paper and a quill and, instead of leaning over to write on his desk, she used her book bag instead. He smirked. She stared up at Snape, her head bent limply, her quill poised.  
  
"The Salvation Salve," he began quickly. "Is used for the relief of nightmares, delirium, and migraine headaches." He paused to savor the beads of sweat appearing on her forehead as she wrote feverishly. "The ingredients are very rare, and that is why most people don't bother with it. That and it is extremely difficult to concoct. The list includes the yolk of a chimera egg, dragon liver, unicorn heart, three hairs off the mane of a kappa, water from the Arctic Ocean, an inch of vine from the Devil's Snare, doxy venom, and the wing of a female fairy. These ingredients must be stewed on the night of a full moon in a copper cauldron..." He went on and on, explaining every aspect of the potion. She furiously scribbled notes the whole time. He never allowed her mercy, never allowed her to rest, not even for a second.  
  
But when he was finally finished, she stopped to look up. For a moment they stared at each other plainly, neither daring to break the gaze. But then, quick as it had come, the moment was over.  
  
"What are you staring at?" they sneered in unison.  
  
"Nothing." They replied, again in unison.  
  
"Ugh!" they both seethed in frustration.  
  
"Goodbye." He told her.  
  
"I'm already leaving." She growled.  
  
The first lesson had not gone as smoothly as I planned. Just as I predicted, she was going to be a tough one to break. She was tough anyways. She had simply let all my criticism bounce off of her, and then fired back with all the spite I had first acknowledged her with. It annoyed me, and I think she knew that. She was clever that way.  
  
After class the next day, I had told her to meet me that Sunday night at the same time. Though I reminded her I would not wait for her if she were late again, I knew I would wait. The opportunity to break a person is always too good to miss.  
  
And now Sunday night had finally rolled around. I found myself thinking of the session with a strange feeling of excitement and disgust. I pictured the tears streaming down her face, her face crumpled and broken, her cheeks red. It made me smile, yet at the same time, I felt horrified at myself. I knew I had to stop this, hurting other people for pleasure, but I just couldn't seem to.  
  
At precisely eight o' clock, I heard a meek knock on the door. I smiled.  
  
"Enter." I barked. When she came in, I gasped. "Miss Fox, why is your hair blue?"  
  
She grinned. "Well, I really –"  
  
"No, never mind. Why are you wearing pajamas?"  
  
"I just woke up."  
  
"From what, may I ask?"  
  
"I've become nocturnal, Professor Snape."  
  
"Nocturnal?" I snorted. "What about class?"  
  
"I'm only nocturnal on the weekends, Professor." She assured me. Then it hit me; she was doing this only to annoy me. My face turned calloused and the smile slipped right off her face.  
  
"Sit down. I have no time for your shenanigans. As I told you, my time is precious, and right now it is being wasted by you." She looked down, knowing her plan had failed, and sat in her usual chair. Her blue hair fell in front of her face as she rummaged through her bag. I noticed that it matched her beautiful eyes perfectly.  
  
Shaking these thoughts from my head, I started to speak as she got situated with her quill and parchment.  
  
"...and that is why sloth fingers are vital to the Banishing Potion." He finished. Samantha put down her quill, tucked the parchment away, and eventually put the quill away too.  
  
"Fascinating!" she smiled dryly. "I always thought chicken fingers were the vital ingredient!"  
  
He glared at her. "Your sarcasm is becoming tiresome, Miss Fox, so I suggest you refrain from it."  
  
"How ironic." She snorted. Snape did not reply. She took out her wand, transfigured her pajamas into her normal school clothes, changed her hair back to its normal color, put her wand away, got up, and walked out.  
  
- - -  
  
Snape had just finished his lecture. It was Thursday, and Samantha's third Remedial Potions session was about to end.  
  
"Now, Fox, tell me, why is the ingredient compound of an oyster skin crucial to the effects of a Enclosing Potion?"  
  
Samantha racked her brain. He had said this earlier! She knew it, she knew she did –  
  
"Miss Fox, I asked you a question."  
  
"Er –"  
  
"Miss Fox!"  
  
"I KNOW, I KNOW! JUST GIVE ME A SECOND TO THINK!" she shouted. He stood back and looked at her with an icy disdain.  
  
"Do not shout at me, Miss Fox. Do you think you don't have to show any respect for me? Do you think you are any different from your peers?" He asked her malignantly. "Answer me!"  
  
"I am different from my peers," she said in a restrained voice. "In the respect that I refuse to kiss your ass!"  
  
They were silent for a moment, then he spoke in a calm, controlled voice.  
  
"That kind of language," he said, his nostrils flaring. "Will get you nowhere but detention. Now please gather your things and get out of my office. I will see you again next Sunday."  
  
She looked at him for a moment, her eyes watering, then grabbed her bag and left. She walked calmly to the dormitory, resisting the urge to run, run and not look back.  
  
When she arrived at her room, no one was there but her owl named Perseus. He was a lovely horned owl. He was currently perched on the top of her green and silver four-poster bed. She whistled and he fluttered down to land on her forearm. Samantha stroked him lightly.  
  
"Oh, Perseus," she sighed, pacing the dormitory. "Why does the only person that can help me succeed have to be such an asshole?"  
  
The owl, which didn't seem to have an answer, hooted and nipped one of her fingers. She fished an Owl Treat out of her trunk and let him eat it out of the palm of her hand. She sighed again.  
  
"Sometimes I think there's no way out, don't you?" she asked.  
  
He hooted in agreement. 


	3. Saving the Fallen

Chapter 3  
Saving the Fallen  
  
Nearly a month and a half had gone by since Samantha's first Remedial Potions lesson. Again and again she sensed Snape was trying to break her spirit, but she couldn't begin to wonder why. It just seemed like he wanted to hurt her, not help her, so why did he offer to tutor her?  
  
She had not been late since her first lesson, and tonight she was on time as well. As a ritual, she knocked, he said 'Enter', she went in, he asked her to sit, and she sat and automatically got out piece of parchment and some paper. Tonight everything happened as usual, but when she commenced digging through her bag, he told her she would not need a piece of parchment nor a quill tonight.  
  
"Tonight," he had said (much to her horror). "You are going to take a practical exam so I can see how much you've absorbed from all the lectures."  
  
Her heart sank like a stone. She normally worked well under pressure, but if that pressure was Snape, she knew damn well she would crash and burn. And that didn't make her feel any better, either.  
  
"You will be making the Draught of Living Death." I announced. I could see her swallow nervously. Good, I thought, smirking. Tonight she's going to crack, I know it. Tonight she'll snap in half as easily as a twig.  
  
"Okay." She gulped. "Right...um...the water." I watched her, relishing in her nervousness as she lit the fire beneath the cauldron, poured the water as a base, and scrambled to get her ingredients. Despite of all my lectures, she was becoming quite scatterbrained. I smiled one-sidedly.  
  
"That'll ruin the Draught if you add that, you know." I said analytically just as she dropped the wrong ingredient in. She glared up at me. "It was your mistake, not mine, Miss Fox. Don't glare at me." I said firmly. She looked back down at her cauldron, muttering.  
  
"Add the foxtail now." I told her. She dropped it in and the cauldron billowed smoke. Beneath the smoldering whiteness, I knew that the color would come out midnight blue, just as it was supposed to be. I felt obligated to help her. I had lied when I said that the other ingredient would ruin the potion; it only changed the color. Lucky for me she didn't know that.  
  
And lucky for her, I basically guided her through the potion. But when I turned my back for one moment, in an instant I knew she had not stirred it as many times as necessary. I turned back around and faced her, my eyes accusing. She looked at me with an innocent confusion.  
  
"I don't know what happened!" she said. "I was just stirring it like you told me, and –"  
  
"Except that before you supposedly 'stirred' it, the potion was midnight blue, and now it is acid green. It is still supposed to be midnight blue, Miss Fox, so how do you explain the change in color if you claim you followed my directions?" I demanded. She floundered for an answer.  
  
"I – I –"she stuttered.  
  
"You are a disgrace to Potion making, Miss Fox!" I snapped.  
  
"I can't help it! I'm just bad at measuring and timing and all that!" she cried, clearly distressed. I was finally getting to her. At long last, she was going to break. I nearly smirked, then caught myself.  
  
"It is more than that, Miss Fox! You have to give a damn about your work before you can excel in it, and you, obviously, do not –"  
  
"That's not true!" she shouted, her lip quivering. I felt my lip curl with satisfaction. I could see the sweat trickling down her neck. I leaned forward and bent close to her face so that our breath nearly met.  
  
"Oh, but isn't it?" I whispered, sneering. She clenched her fists.  
  
"NO!" she shrieked. "Oh, you – you – "but she stopped and fell silent.  
  
"Me? What about me? Go on, say it." I prompted, baring my teeth and instigating a challenge.  
  
It looked as though she was going to burst into tears and flee, the way her lip was quivering so violently, the way her fists were clenched into menacing white balls of fury, the way her eyes and cheeks were tinged crimson, the obvious lump in her throat. Then, in one swift and frightening movement, her face cleared completely. I gasped and stood back. She grinned as I stared at her in surprise.  
  
"You want to know what I truly think of you? Can I be honest?" she asked.  
  
She won't say anything, I thought. She doesn't have the guts to say anything to me. This mental reassurance gave me the nerve I needed to smile sweetly back at her and reply, "But of course."  
  
I'm cold, I'm ugly  
  
I'm always confused by everything  
  
I can stare into a thousand eyes  
  
But every smile hides a bold-faced lie  
  
It itches, it seethes, it festers and breathes  
  
My heroes are dead, they died in my head  
  
Thin out the herd, squeeze out the pain  
  
Something inside me has opened up again  
  
Thoughts of me exemplified  
  
All the little flaws i have denied  
  
Forget today, forget whatever happened  
  
Everyday i see a little more of overall deficiencies  
  
I'm nothing short of being one complete catastrophe  
  
What the hell - did i - do to deserve - all of this?  
  
I save all the bullets from ignorant minds  
  
Your insults get stuck in my teeth as they grind  
  
Way past good taste, on our way to bad omens  
  
I decrease, while my symptoms increase  
  
God what the fuck is wrong You act like you knew it all along  
  
Your timing sucks, your silence is a blessing  
  
All i ever wanted out of you was  
  
Something you could never be  
  
Now take a real good look at  
  
What you've fucking done to me  
  
What the hell - did i - do to deserve - all of this?  
  
Gimme any reason why I'd need you, boy  
  
Gimme any reason not to fuck you up  
  
Gimme any reason why I'd need you, bitch  
  
Gimme any reason not to fuck you up  
  
I see you in me  
  
I keep my scars from prying eyes  
  
Incapable of ever knowing why  
  
Somebody breathe, I've got to have an answer  
  
Why am i so fascinated by  
  
Bigger pictures, better things  
  
But i don't care what you think  
  
You'll never understand me  
  
What the hell - did i - do to deserve - all of this?  
  
Fuck!!!  
  
-Slipknot-  
  
"Well," she began, starting to shake with anger. She gritted her teeth and suddenly looked mildly unnerving. There was a strange, livid power in her deep blue eyes that I had never witnessed before. "I think you are a selfish bastard who likes to fuck with peoples heads for fun! You like to hurt people, to break people down, and it makes me SICK! The way you walk around with your abnormally large nose pointed towards the sky as if it is superior to everyone around you, as if nobody else deserves your attention! All around you see people struggling, but you do nothing to help! If your time is valuable, Professor, why don't you spend it doing something that everyone can profit from instead of just feeling sorry for yourself! Honestly, by looking at the way you turned out, you must have had a bad childhood, but you want to know something? I don't give a shit, and neither does anybody else! I'm here to learn, Professor, and that doesn't seem to be taking place, so get your ass out of that chair and TEACH ME SOMETHING!" She finished, bellowing the last three words.  
  
"Detention, Fox." I said quietly. "A month's worth." I knew she had hit the nail on the head; that's why I wasn't angrier.  
  
"Do you mean with you?"  
  
"Yes, if Hagrid doesn't have anything for you to do. Why is that any of your concern?" I snapped.  
  
"Well, one: It's my detention. Two: Do you really want to spend time with me outside of Remedial Potions?" She asked coldly.  
  
"No." I answered swiftly.  
  
"That's what I thought."  
  
"No detention, then."  
  
"Ha." Said Samantha quietly. She felt her face brighten with triumph. She couldn't believe she was getting out of Snape's office without so much as a detention after all she had said and done. "Thank you, Professor." She murmured and was about to walk out the door when his voice cut through the heavy dungeon air once more.  
  
"I've been waiting for you to say that for years."  
  
She whipped around and stared at him, narrowing her eyes, hardly daring to believe it. "You have? Why –"  
  
"I know how you think, Miss Fox. Though you may be a Slytherin, you are more like a Gryfinndor than anything, and that's why I never paid much attention to you, or really favored you in any way at all."  
  
"Ah, yes, you don't know how I think, Professor, but soon I will know how – and what – you think." She whispered. She pulled her wand slowly out her robes. Snape went white, for his lay across the room. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you. Well, I might." She smirked. "Legilimens!"  
  
Suddenly she was in his head, flipping through layers of his mind, looking for anything of significance. He was sure putting up a fight, she would give him that. She dove into a layer near the bottom, which she figured was his childhood. It looked like it hadn't been explored for years.  
  
It turned out that it was his childhood, and she was right, it was unhappy. She watched several fights between a rather pretty black-haired woman and hook-nosed man whom she assumed to be his parents, the snake bite he had gotten as a child, other children teasing him, and his father coming home late and drunk before she reached the most traumatic event of his childhood.  
  
She assumed that Professor Snape was about six or seven when it happened, a very tender age. As a child, he looked frightened whenever she saw him running through his memories.  
  
Snape went into the kitchen the backed out skittishly and stood behind the doorway, poking his head in. His father roared something in a slurred voice and slapped his mother across the face. She cried out and clutched her stinging cheek.  
  
The fight went on, each punch more violent than the next. Finally it began to reach the climax. He punched her in the collarbone, which was already black and blue, and a loud crunch erupted. Her bleeding, crumpled, and finally defeated body wilted and fell to the polished white tile.  
  
"No!" cried Snape. He said this a bit too loudly. His father looked over and saw him in the doorway, a manic glint in his eye. He started to slowly lumber towards him. Snape reached into his pocket and retrieved a good- sized, rather sharp looking rock, as if previously that day he had removed it from the garden, sensing that this would be the day his father would need to die.  
  
"Severus," his father said raucously. "Come here."  
  
"No!" Snape whispered.  
  
"Severus Alexander! Listen to your father!" he roared.  
  
"NO! YOU KILLED HER! I'LL – I'LL KILL YOU!" He shrieked, tears rolling down his cheeks in thick, transparent strands. He flung his arm back and threw. His father stopped dead, looking confused. Snape's aim was incredibly good; a second later the rock was lodged in the side of his father's head, forming a grotesque, bloody crater. He fell to the ground.  
  
Snape whimpered, froze, and looked at his dead parents, not knowing quite what to do. He started to sob, but as he did, he went to the supply closet and got a metal container out. The label read: Kerosene. He set it on the counter and dashed down the hall to his room, sobbing pitifully all the way.  
  
He packed a few objects hurriedly and swung the bag over his tiny, rounded shoulders. Then he ran into the kitchen, got the kerosene, drowned the kitchen in it, and pulled something from the back pocket of his jeans. It was a plain white book of matches.  
  
He lit one carefully, looked at it, then tossed it into one of the puddles of kerosene on the table. The fire blazed up around him, but instead of running, he went over to his mother and kissed her head, which was caked with drying blood. Then he took one last look at them both and dashed out the back door.  
  
Suddenly, she felt an unfamiliar tugging, and she knew it was time to go.  
  
When Samantha snapped back to reality, the first thing she saw was Snape lying on the floor.  
  
"Professor!" she cried in horror. She knelt down and checked his pulse. It wasn't very strong. Automatically, she glanced at the clock. It read: 12:30. Her stomach exploded with fear. How would she explain this to Madame Pomfrey?  
  
Samantha's heart nearly froze in terror. She racked her brain, trying to think of ways to save him. She knew what had happened to him. When she had studied Legilimency, she had read that if the person that is being practiced on passes out and isn't attended to for a certain amount of time, that person could die. Her stomach sank even lower.  
  
But she also remembered the Awakening Brew, which could awaken the drinker from any sort of sleep or state of unconsciousness except death. But, to her dismay, she knew it was the most difficult potion they were studying this year besides the Draught of Living Death itself.  
  
She checked his pulse again. It was slightly slower. All of a sudden, in that moment, she knew his life was in her hands. She couldn't bring him to the hospital wing because Madame Pomfrey would ask questions, and she couldn't have that. She had to make the potion for him, and there was no way around it.  
  
She sighed and went to gather the ingredients. After she had gotten all of them, she filled the cauldron with rain water and lit the fire underneath. When it was warm enough, she stirred in the shredded ivy leaf, then waited five minutes before throwing in the kneazle hairs.  
  
She made the potion quickly but carefully. Finally she doused the flame and poured some of the contents into a beaker. She brought it over to him gingerly. With one hand she placed her thumb and forefinger on his wrist, which was almost ice cold. Her eyes widened in fear that she was too late. But she was not. His pulse was still there: a dull, sluggish throbbing.  
  
She parted his lips with her fingers, poured some of the silver liquid in his mouth, and tilted his head back so he could swallow. She watched tentatively. Seconds later, his eyes popped open and he sputtered. Immediately, he sat straight up and she patted his back to ease his coughing.  
  
"What –"he gasped for air. "Happened?"  
  
"Er..." she trailed. She looked away guiltily.  
  
"Wait." He said slowly, looking at her. Her eyes filled with tears, for she knew what was coming. "I remember...the flashes...that day...you saw my memories. You broke into my mind." He looked at her with a loathsome disbelief.  
  
"I – I'm sorry – I had to know –"she apologized quietly. He made as if to strike her. Samantha cringed, waiting for the blow. But it didn't come. She heard a loud thump and opened her eyes to see he had banged his fist on his desk. He swiftly rushed over to her.  
  
Liberate - my madness  
  
(one of me, all of you)  
  
Liberate - my madness  
  
I just want to...  
  
Section off myself  
  
Put a wall up/what the hell have i done  
  
Keep the dog at bay  
  
Survive by saving me!  
  
Values and the game  
  
Not a fuck-up - not a part of your lie  
  
I am one, i am all - i'm above and beyond!  
  
Back off of the shit  
  
Stand off or I'll spit  
  
So soft, you forget  
  
Your garbage in is garbage out  
  
You don't give a shit  
  
I won't play the fit  
  
Get off, get on this  
  
Your garbage in is garbage out  
  
Liberate my madness...  
  
Liberate - my madness  
  
(one of me, all of you)  
  
Liberate - my madness  
  
I just want to...  
  
I am not ashamed  
  
What is vital isn't always humane  
  
You can break in vain  
  
But you can't break away  
  
Even in my face  
  
Lotta bullshit, not alotta the truth I can't see from here  
  
But i can smell your fear  
  
Back off of the shit  
  
Stand off or I'll spit  
  
So soft, you forget  
  
Your garbage in is garbage out  
  
You don't give a shit  
  
I won't play the fit  
  
Get off, get on this  
  
Your garbage in is garbage out  
  
Saved - you're such a slave - i don't expect a  
  
Name - you don't care - i wasn't witness -  
  
I can't be a part of a system such as this  
  
Hard eyes - glow right - in my - darkness - again  
  
With the sickness, renegade blisters, sisters,  
  
Salivate, litigate, liberate, madness, sadness  
  
Fuck this - how long have i had this?  
  
I don't need this - outta my business  
  
Insert, engage, betrayed, my god  
  
Fraud  
  
Liberate - my madness  
  
(one of me, all of you)  
  
Liberate - my madness  
  
I just want to...  
  
-Slipknot-  
  
"One sip." He said, pulling an opaque white bottle out of his pocket, about half-full of a clear liquid.  
  
"What's –"  
  
"Just do it!" he hissed. She didn't fully trust him, but she took it anyways, carefully twisted the top off and took a sip. Immediately she felt as though her body was not her own, as if her mind had separated from it. She stared blankly ahead, not really feeling the need to blink. He bent close to her face.  
  
"Are – you – being – possessed – by – the – Dark – Lord – or – are – you – one – of – his – spies?" he over-pronounced each word, making everything extremely clear.  
  
"No." she said in a dull, flat voice. She wasn't even wholly aware that she had answered. He looked at her, pulled out his wand, and muttered something. In a flash she was back to herself again.  
  
"What was that?" she asked.  
  
"Veritaserum." He said. "The truth potion."  
  
"Ah." She murmured.  
  
"Now I need to know," he said, his voice rising. "Why you did that, Miss Fox. Why did you invade the privacy of my mind? ANSWER ME!" he roared when she remained silent. She swallowed.  
  
"You know, you sounded just like your father when you did that." She said quietly.  
  
That really shut him up. He froze, his mouth open a bit, his eyes wide, his face pinched with an emotion that Samantha could not quite identify. Perhaps remorse? She thought. Immediately he knew what she had seen, every little bit.  
  
"I had to do it. He killed my mother." He said quietly. But he wasn't really talking to her any more; he was talking to himself.  
  
"I don't blame you."  
  
He looked up at her, hardly daring to believe it.  
  
"You lie." He finally decided, muttering.  
  
"And what if I don't? What if I truly don't blame you? I just don't think you want to believe that someone's finally on your side, after nobody has been for so long." She said sagely.  
  
"It doesn't matter." He said.  
  
"Right now it matters more than anything." He said firmly.  
  
"Miss Fox, you are the child and I am the adult. It isn't supposed to happen this way."  
  
"I am not a child, Professor." She said in a hushed, gentle voice. They stared at each other. Finally, he cleared his throat and they looked away. His gaze found the counter she had prepared the potion on.  
  
"I see you made a potion. What for?"  
  
She sighed. "You passed out, sir. I made an Awakening Brew."  
  
His eyebrows shot up. "Really? Did it work?"  
  
She shrugged half-heartedly. "Well, you're here now, aren't you?" He nodded. She gave a tiny yawn. He looked at the clock.  
  
"It is late. But before you go, I insist you tell me how and why you broke into my mind." He said sternly. She sighed and sat down in the chair again.  
  
"Well, I'm sorry I broke in, but I had to know what happened to you. And, obviously, I found out. The how part I really can't go in depth with, because...well, I just did it. Nothing extra special about it, really." She shrugged again.  
  
"I only ask how, Miss Fox, because I am an advanced Occlumens. No one has been able to break into my mind in twenty years."  
  
"Well, both my parents were Occlumens and Legilimens, and they started to teach me when I was five years old. I just practiced so much that I'm much more advanced than I should be."  
  
"Ah. Fascinating. And about the Brew: Miss Fox, do you have any idea how you managed to make it correctly?" he timing?" she guessed.  
  
"No. As I was telling you earlier, you have to give a damn about what your doing, and finally, you did. Although I don't know why you want to save me so badly. Apparent I'm just a selfish bastard, am I not?" He drawled. Her face darkened.  
  
"I didn't know you when I said that. Now I know you."  
  
"You will never truly know me, Miss Fox."  
  
"So I won't, so what? Now I realize that you're not just a selfish bastard, isn't that worth something?" She smirked as she grabbed her bag, and, without so much as a goodbye, left his office. 


	4. Getting Even

Chapter 4  
  
Getting Even  
  
The next day Samantha woke up bright and early. She yawned, stretched, and smiled. She looked around to see Perseus was gone, probably flying around the grounds or at the Owlery.  
  
She got dressed and sighed happily. It was finally Friday, her weekly nirvana. All she had today was Transfiguration, Divination, Potions and Astronomy at night. Then she was free, free for the weekend. She smiled at the thought.  
  
She got dressed, made her bed, grabbed her bag, and went down to breakfast. She began to dine on pancakes when Jillian and Monica arrived. They talked animatedly, overjoyed that the weekend was finally upon them. It wasn't until nearly the end of breakfast that Samantha got a prickling feeling on the back of her neck as if someone was watching her.  
  
She whipped around. Her eyes locked onto Professor Snape, who was sitting calmly, drinking coffee, and certainly not looking at her. He wasn't looking at me, she thought. Or had he been? Had he simply turned his head quickly?  
  
She shook these thoughts from her head and turned back to her friends.  
  
- - -  
  
At last she was released from the Divination classroom. She resented Trelawney for keeping it so warm in that room. Now she was sweating, which annoyed her greatly, and her hair was limp. Normally she wouldn't worry about it, but something made her want to look as good as she could look.  
  
As she went down to the dungeons, she sighed and happily greeted the cool, heavy dungeon air. She tapped her bun with her wand and her golden-brown hair fell to her shoulders. She entered dungeon five.  
  
She was the first one there, as always. She remained standing.  
  
"Please sit down, Samantha." Snape said. Slightly shocked at being called her first name, she sank into her usual seat. She doodled on a spare piece of parchment. She got the prickling feeling again, this time on her face. She looked up abruptly. He was not staring. But again, she wondered if he had simply turned away. She tried to push the thoughts away.  
  
All the students filed in gradually. When Snape looked up, the room quieted under his gaze. They turned their attentive faces towards him. He rose from his seat and stood in front of the class.  
  
"Today we will be making a basic Pepperup Potion, for it is a step down from what we have been learning. Why, you ask? Your essays and practical exams are shameful! They are lamentable! Can you tell me what is so hard about making a potion?" he asked viciously. Some people shrugged, some people looked away guiltily. "Well, some of you have improved, but the majority of you have not." He gave Samantha a rare but meaningful look that no one but her seemed to notice. She blushed. "So that means going back to things we should have mastered by now. You will all have extra homework. No complaints, no excuses! You brought this upon yourselves! Now begin the potion before I give you all 'D's!" he hissed snappishly. There was the expected bustle.  
  
Samantha made the potion wordlessly, trying to be as quiet as possible. The only sounds in the classroom were the bubble of the cauldron and the occasional soft sigh or whisper. She merely thought to herself what Snape would say if she failed again, and by the time the potion was done, she was confident she had earned an 'E' at least. She brought it up for grading.  
  
He took it gingerly, popped the cork off, and poured a few sips down his throat. It astonished Samantha that he trusted her potion work so much. But then again, after the previous night...  
  
He smiled at her. It was the first time she had ever seen him smile, and it surprised her even more. "Very good, Miss Fox. It seems to me that you have finally gotten the gist of potion work. I give it a 'E'." He told her quietly, so not to disturb the ones still working.  
  
She grinned with glee. She had gotten exactly what she had expected. No more, but still, no less either. "Thank you, Professor." She whispered and returned to her seat, still smiling.  
  
After the bell rang, Samantha packed her things slowly, taking in all that had just happened and tucking it away inside her heart for a rainy day. She was about to walk out when he stopped her.  
  
"Miss Fox? Samantha? Can you stay a bit?" he asked.  
  
"Yes sir." She answered. She dropped her bag on her desk and went over to him.  
  
"Yes. Um, I just wanted to say...er...well..." She watched with a little smile. He looked to her for help. However, she would not offer anything; it amused her to watch him struggle. "Well, I wanted to say...thankyou." He said extremely quickly.  
  
"For..."  
  
"For...er...savingmylife." Again, he made his statement one word. She smiled. She knew this was extremely difficult for him.  
  
"You're welcome." She said simply.  
  
"So am I still a selfish bastard?" he asked, offering an impish smile.  
  
Not entirely, she thought, but all she said was, "No."  
  
"Good." He said. She had never seen him so – what's the word? she thought – nervous before. It amused her to think she was making him this way when it used to be that it was the other way around.  
  
Suddenly she was flooded with a rush of emotion. Or it could have been hormones, she wasn't sure. But, in any case, her brain screamed: OH MY GOD AM I FALLING IN LOVE WITH HIM? THE SCHOOL POTIONS MASTER? I'M GOING INSANE, GODDAMMIT!  
  
"Er...I have to go." She said, and made to leave.  
  
Giving in to what has got me  
  
Feeling claustrophobic, scarred  
  
Severed me from all emotion  
  
Life is just too fucking hard  
  
Snap! Your face was all it took  
  
Cuz this need ain't doing' me no good  
  
Fall on my face, but can't you see?  
  
This fucking life is killing me!  
  
Tearing me / inside  
  
Too far gone, i'm catatonic  
  
Leaving you to criticize  
  
Empty shell and running naked  
  
All alone... lobotomized  
  
-Slipknot-  
  
She quickly swept out of the dungeons before he could get another word out.  
  
I watched her go, her hips swaying back on forth, the echo of her steps softer than a baby's kiss. How I wanted to take her in my arms and never let go. I knew she felt the same way. But we couldn't risk it, not for a million galleons we couldn't risk it.  
  
I hated it. I would give anything just to touch her velvety lips, the ones that had spoken to me well into the night, the ones that had pursed and smiled all in my presence.  
  
"Aaaah!" I cried and rolled up his sleeve so quickly that I thought he might have ripped it. The Dark Mark was there, black as night and freshly outlined in my own scarlet blood.  
  
I knew that if it weren't for Occlumency I would be dead by now. Occlumency and Dumbledore. If Dumbledore ever died and I was left in the hands of Voldemort, I could basically kiss my ass goodbye. I hated spying, but I was with the Order, and it was something I had to do.  
  
- - -  
  
In the Great Hall the next morning Samantha again arrived early. I sipped the dark brew lightly, watching her come in and sit down with her friends. It was amusing to think we used to hate each other. But even though I knew I used to despise her, that fiery rebelliousness was always slightly attractive.  
  
Surprisingly, she looked over at me. She smiled at me brightly, and I smiled impishly back over the rim of my goblet. I could almost feel the warmth and sincerity in her smile. It seemed like my stomach was like a pancake, and she was the spatula, making it flip over and over and over. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but a nice one.  
  
The Mark burned again, and I winced. I tried to ignore it. But I realized that wasn't going to happen as my eyes followed a tiny river of blood flowing out from under the cuff of my shirt and onto the back of my hand. I smeared it on my robes.  
  
"Severus?" Dumbledore asked. McGonagall and Sprout looked over.  
  
"It's nothing." I growled. "I won't go. Not yet."  
  
They went back to their breakfast.  
  
- - -  
  
"Class dismissed." I said in a sharp voice. The worried sixth years gathered their things and hurriedly made their way to the door. I paid no attention. The only object was my interest was Samantha, who was packing her things slowly. I supposed the lethargy of her manor was on purpose.  
  
"Samantha." I addressed her. Her head snapped up.  
  
"Yes, Professor?"  
  
"Er..." I blushed. I was being stupid. I had addressed her name, yet I did not have a thing to say to her. Then an idea hit me. I took out my wand. She panicked, grabbing hers. But she was not quick enough. "Legilimens!"  
  
Suddenly I invaded her mind just as she had invaded mine. I did not waste my time peering at her early childhood. I dove into the layer that bore the memories of her school career.  
  
She looked about twelve. Her face was rounder, not quite as heart-shaped as it was presently. She was sitting with Monica Flynn and Jillian McNamara, two Slytherins in her year. They were her best friends. I had seen them in the Great Hall, in the corridors, on the grounds, laughing and talking.  
  
"That Lockhart looks like he'd be a decent shag, eh?" Monica asked, looking into the flames in the fireplace of the Slytherin common room.  
  
"You're disgusting, Monica." Samantha said.  
  
"I'm only telling the truth." Monica said frankly, turning to face Samantha.  
  
"What shoe size does he wear?" Jillian asked, looking up from her homework.  
  
"How the hell do I know?" Monica asked.  
  
"What does that have to do with this conversation, anyways?" Samantha asked her quizzically.  
  
"Well," Jillian started to explain, putting down her book. "I heard from Herina that a guy's shoe size is how big his dick is. Bigger dick, better shag. That's all I'm saying."  
  
"What a crock of shit!" Monica laughed. "Herina is really full of it. Besides, it's not like I want to shag him anyways."  
  
"Yeah." Said Samantha, laughing.  
  
"Maybe she's not. How would you know?" Jillian asked.  
  
"Well, I just...I just know, okay? Bugger off."  
  
"So maybe you should prove it." Jillian snapped. Monica looked at her.  
  
"You really think so?"  
  
"Yes. In fact, let's make a bet."  
  
Monica rolled her shoulders, as if bracing herself. "Okay. What's it on?"  
  
"You," Jillian said. "But let me explain. I bet that you can't snog him by tomorrow night, and obviously, that's what you're going to try to do. If you win, I do your homework for a week. If you lose, you do my homework for a week."  
  
Monica considered. Samantha, Jillian and she were the three smartest Slytherins. Having no homework would sure be a nice change.  
  
"Jillian, you've got yourself a bet."  
  
They shook hands.  
  
In the next memory, Samantha and Jillian were pacing the common room nervously.  
  
"God, how long does it take? She should be back by now!" Samantha cried nervously, wringing her hands.  
  
"Shhhh. Don't panic. The last thing we need is more people to know about this." Jillian said soothingly. Samantha exhaled, this time more calmly.  
  
After about five minutes of pacing, Monica arrived, hair tousled and face red.  
  
"Oh my God!" Samantha said. Monica grinned.  
  
"Well, looks like I win, Jillian. But don't worry. All's not lost for you. I got two hundred points to Slytherin, after all." She smiled.  
  
"You didn't!" Jillian said in an oh-my-gosh-you-little-whore-I'm-almost- impressed kind of voice.  
  
"I did." She smiled smugly.  
  
"God, you little slut!" Jillian shrieked, cackling. Monica laughed and shoved her playfully.  
  
Then the memory ended and I exited her mind. I was disappointed, in myself and in my students. I couldn't do anything about Flynn snogging Lockhart: that was two years ago. But, to my self-disgust, that wasn't the thing that was bothering me the most.  
  
I didn't have time to go through each and every thing Samantha remembered. I had just thing that one, and I supposed that set the standard for the rest. I didn't know exactly what I had been looking for, but I thought that maybe I was searching for some horrific, dark, secretive event so I would finally know what had happened to her (if anything ever had) and we could wallow in self-pity together. But all I had seen was that crap about Flynn and Lockhart. It made me ache, and I hated myself for it.  
  
She had been sitting on her stool when I had first invaded her mind. Now her forearms rested on her thighs, her back hunched, her golden-brown locks falling in front of her face.  
  
"Ugh." She groaned. "What the hell did you do that for?"  
  
"Sorry." I said quietly, putting my wand away. I went over to help her. I put a hand on her shoulder. It surprised me when she struggled against me and in all the excitement my hand accidentally brushed her chest. She glared up at me.  
  
"Oh, yeah, that was really an accident." She said with a sarcastic drawl.  
  
"Yes, it was." I replied. She tutted. She bent over to get her bag off the floor. It was then that I realized just how loose her shirt was. I could see them so clearly. She was wearing a skin-colored underwire bra, but it didn't cover as much as it should have. I bit my lip to suppress a grin. Her head shot up as if she knew exactly what I was thinking.  
  
"And what are you looking at?" she asked sharply.  
  
"Nothing." I answered simply.  
  
"Ha." She muttered. "Next you'll be telling me that you're not thinking about sex. What a laugh."  
  
I nearly chuckled. "My, my, what's gotten you so bitchy all of a sudden?"  
  
"Your bullshit. Now get the fuck out of my way." She snapped. I moved aside and grinned. She gave me a dirty look before exiting the dungeon.  
  
"P.M.S...." I mumbled. 


End file.
